Each and Every Day
by imgaylolz
Summary: (still thinking about this)


What do you want?

What, do you want?

Santana, Jesus Fucking Christ, what do you want? Its 7:15 in the morning so you want to be in bed still, that's one thing. As sleep deprived as you always seem to be, and everyone else points out too maybe you should be getting some rest on the one day off you have in 2 weeks, but honestly you lost track when this became the norm a year ago. Sleep sounds great. Coffee and a good book sounded better.

Seriously, what do you want? Not a lot of time left to think about it, especially in the morning rush on a Monday. Cranky assholes, masses of workaholics in a survival of the fittest with time left to make it punctually to work and this line. You don't want to be the idiot staring at the menu after waiting in line ten plus minutes. Lucky for you this Starbucks is walking distance from both your new apartment and your work. HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH.

You still don't know. You almost never do. If life granted you one thing it was an inner indecisiveness to match the pros. You'd win a competition for that, you're sure of it.

At this very moment though, simple ideas about coffee and scones you think you want have gone out the window. You want what is standing in the queue with you. Not with you, and no, you don't want what is standing in the queue five people in front of you. You need it.

She's apologizing and blushing profusely because the second the barista passed her the grande caramel macchiato she dropped it on the floor and interconnected the people behind her and herself with flying coffee particles. Oops. In any other situation you'd be laughing your fucking ass off, or trying not to. Somehow without even pondering if you want to, you're rushing through the pissed off customers behind her to help her clean this up. You'll help her first, you. You would never do this normally but you are now. Maybe it's because of the flowing silky blonde hair, the pale porcelain skin, and brazenly blue eyes that you've been staring at since walking in here. Okay her everything is helping. You think this girl is the most beautiful you've ever seen. You would swear it. This isn't even you right now. This isn't the horn dog in you that charms women into your bed to throw them out the next morning. This is different. You feel drawn to her in a way you don't think you are able to fathom and most certainly can't explain.

She curses herself under her breath and still features streaks of red up the back of her neck, up her ears and onto her cheeks. After both of you wipe up most of the mess with napkins, a lanky teenager comes out through the back to finish the job with a mop. She rubs her hands on her temples and then removes her left one to place on your shoulder. A wave of tingles washes through you, and your stomach grew a beehive, not some lame butterflies, this feeling is a swarm. You don't even know her. This is ridiculous and you steel yourself, stop staring at your eyes and respond no problem when she thanks you. You offer to help her clean up and you pull her towards the bathroom. She looks as though she could cry. You want to console her and do more than just offer a friendly helping hand. You don't. You've done too much already, and anyways you are just a stranger. You offer her your jacket and she accepts. You wash her coffee soaked shirt in the sink while she puts your WashU jacket on and after she thanks you once again, you tell her to have a nice day and she just looks at you for a while and smiles this full, beautiful, no reservations smile that makes her eyes shine. You feel weak in the knees, admittedly the whole body. Making your way out the door of the bathroom, and then through the entrance to the coffeehouse you feel a little empty. Girls like her, whose name you feel you'll never be lucky enough to let roll off your tongue, girls like her who leave you breathless always remind you of what you don't have, or let yourself have. Honestly though you haven't felt this encompassed and this much longing for one singular person before just by looking into their eyes. It's weird and you feel unbalanced. While you were forgetting, she seemed to remember that she won't have any way to get a hold of you to return your jacket. She catches up to you on the sidewalk and grabs your arm gently. You turn and smile, she does too. She shakes her head a little bit and begins a conversation with you now that she isn't as preoccupied with embarrassment.

_"Hi, I'm Brittany."_

_"Santana."_

_"Nice to meet you, (Kind Soul Santana.)"_ You laugh.

_"You're funny, (You'll Often Find Me Blushing Brittany)."_

_"No, what's actually funny is the fact that we are both without a coffee when that's what we came here for in the first place."_

You laugh again, and she does too. Words are hard right now but you find yourself saying, _"The polite thing to do in this case would be to ask me for a coffee, you know, to make up for the missed one."_

She smiles and looks at the ground with her hands in her pockets.

_"Kind Soul Santana that is undeniably correct."_

You like this, this interaction, flirting maybe? Maybe she's just being nice, you refuse to be one of those lesbians who thinks every girl being nice is interested. That's annoying.

_"So give me your number."_ You look up from the ground and she still has that smile on, that one from when you told her to have a nice day. You force yourself to think and respond by asking her to give you her phone. She hands it over to you out of her right pocket with her right hand. You punch the numbers in and can't help smiling at the picture of a fat, seriously overweight cat that is ingrained on her phone case. It's cute. She thinks so too and says she will explain all about it over that coffee, because she really has to get going.

You hand it over, and she grabs it with her left hand. Her left hand.

You hadn't noticed because her eyes are that blue and her freckles are that apparent and her hair is the sunshine in the dark and her smile. Her smile is good, her smile feels like hope.

You hadn't noticed the ring on her finger. Her ring finger. On her left hand. Fuck.

_"Are you alright?"_

_"Yeah, I'll see you later Brittany."_ She smiles, that smile. Telling you to have a nice day, you turn and walk away before she does.

This is the issue with finally knowing you want something, and seeing it right in front of you, seeing it so reachable but so excruciatingly far away. We often most want what we can't have, or we often want something only obtainable with the most strenuous, and longest journeys. I've been waiting for something to want, something to desire, and waiting to find something to fill a missing piece of the puzzle. Going to day to day alone is tiresome, but it's something I can do, something I've made myself accustomed to. You don't need anyone who doesn't need you.

We'll go for coffee, yeah.

She can be a friend. I think. Maybe more. No. A friend. A you'll often find me blushing Brittany friend.


End file.
